AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I had no doubt his reason for showing me what was happening in the desert and with the woman being transported was so I would realize what we were walking into was exceedingly more dangerous than I believed. And more, that Penelope would be in the middle of it all.
“What are you going to do about it?” he asked.
“Remove her from the mission entirely.”
He chuckled. “Good luck with that, son. I knew in the first five minutes that Penelope Ramsey isn’t the type to quit. Nor will she take kindly to being removed.”
He was right. As Doc, Merrigan, and I had already discussed, Pen was more the type to take matters into her own hands, something I had to prevent her from doing.
17
BUTTERFLY
Flick questioned me extensively about being kidnapped, rescued, and the aftermath. I’d blocked out as much of the memory as I could and wasn’t anxious to revisit it. I got why she wanted me to talk about it, though, especially the training I had afterwards.
While being abducted had been the worst, it wasn’t the only traumatic thing that had happened in my life, which meant I’d become proficient at compartmentalizing—otherwise known as survival. I could either let the bad things that had happened turn me into a bitter and unhappy person, much like my mom, or I could choose to find things to laugh and smile about and have joy in my life. I went with the latter.
“We’ll go through some basic self-defense moves first, then transition into offensive tactics,” she said after having me put on tactical gear similar to what she’d changed into.
After three hours of physical activity, I was exhausted. Something Flick picked up on immediately.
“We’ll need to build your endurance before we continue with the more difficult maneuvers. Don’t worry, though. It happens quickly. Are you a runner, by any chance?”
“It’s been a couple of years.” More like a few, but she was astute enough to figure that out.
“We’ll hydrate, then see how far you can go.”
I was about to ask if we’d be changing clothes, then thought better of it. If I were in a position requiring me to do something physical, like running, I’d likely be in street clothes, not workout gear.
“Let’s take a break,” Flick said after a thirty-minute run, during which I threw up more than once. I hadn’t realized how ridiculously out of shape I’d gotten.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. Few realize the physical demands of undercover work. Frankly, I’m surprised you were able to do as much as you did.”
I doubted her statement was a compliment, so I nodded, then apologized a second time, albeit under my breath. I hated having my time wasted and imagined someone like Flick wouldn’t feel any differently.
“You remind me of me,” she said when we sat under a tree.
I’d just taken a sip of water and nearly spit it out. “In what way?”
She laughed. “You want to be the best at what you do before you even know how to do it.”
“I know how to run, and that wasn’t too impressive.”
Flick leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky. “Tell me about you and Michelangelo.”
That was a loaded question. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“How did you meet?”
I thought back to the day Tara and I went to her father’s office and Brand was there, talking to his mother. She’d been her dad’s secretary for years and, as it turned out, his lover. It wasn’t until right before Brand went to prison that Tara found out he was her half brother. That he was two years older meant he was conceived after my friend’s parents were married.
“He’s the half brother of one of my best friends,” I responded.
“Tara Emsworth?”
“That’s right.” I wasn’t surprised she already knew. In fact, I wondered why she asked in the first place.
